


Stormy beginnings

by Chocostains



Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Mentions of Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 10:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocostains/pseuds/Chocostains
Summary: A rainy day, when everything seems to go wrong, may bring up issues Worick wouldn't admit he had.





	Stormy beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> To shippers like me, this could be interpreted as the beginning of a romance. Or just a moment that strengthened their bonds. Take your pick XD
> 
> PS: I saw this way of writing for the lines Nicolas says in other fanfics. I found it helpful and kept it (not sure if I did this right though, sorry if it is tiring for the eye!)

The rain that had been falling over Ergastulum since last evening hadn’t let on. It was pelting their roof and windows, and creeping through the ceiling crack over the right side of Worick’s bed, a trail of water blots steadily multiplying and expanding on the mattress. His procrastination in fixing it was finally biting him in the ass.

Well, you lay on the bed you make, and that was true for Worick in one too many senses.

Still, Alex’s boobs felt good on his face, if he wanted to be honest. Her slaps too did a decent job at clearing his head sometimes.

It was a little different this time, when he dipped down to nuzzle on her bosom. Unforgiving to his mischief, she tugged him back by a lock of his tangled hair and having righted him, she took him back into her arms. His face was now over her shoulder, her cheek soft against his prickly stubble, the scent of lavender of her raven hair in his nose. She had called him out on his fake silliness and he was no longer in the mood to play as she strummed her fingers through his hair. Her caress moved over the ink on his upper back, unwinding him slowly in tandem with her calm breathing, the rise and fall of her chest against his that made him aware that his own breaths were still shallow. His left socket hurt, a frequent parting gift of his nightmares. Its emptiness was filled with throbbing pain and Worick hooked his arm under Alex’s to reach it, but Alex released him, her hands sliding over his biceps. “Worick?”

He made his best attempt at a smile as he pressed the sweaty pads of his fingers over his scar. “You know how it gets sometimes, Alex-chan. This weather makes it worse.”

His good eye caught movement under the door frame of his bedroom and Nicolas, who had been about to walk away, stopped.

How long had he been standing there? His face was impassive as ever, unbroken by any line of emotion, his gaze black steel shielding his thoughts. The only person who knew what tortured Worick at night, who had seen the very film his nightmares were made of, was standing there stonecold, wearing his detachment from that past life like he wore his tags. Unashamed and indifferent.

Following Worick’s line of vision, Alex turned around. “Oh. Good morning, Nicolas.” Her usual smile was in her voice, but Nic only nodded at her, his eyes still lingering on Worick.

The singe behind his scar spread deeper, into his muscles and bones, the silence heavy between them until Nicolas’ hands cut through it like a knife.

_"I’m out."_

***

Wednesdays were scheduled for Handymen jobs, and Worick’s regulars knew better than to call for his other services. But when a call of the latter sort did come on _that_ Wednesday, Worick grabbed onto the offering of distraction like a thirsty man. The lady was extra loaded, reasonably pleased and well-grounded to Earth as to what she was paying for, sparing them both the mock romance and keeping their relation on comfortably uncomplicated terms. If anyone was disturbed by Alex picking up the phone, it was Alex herself who had never before had to confirm whether Worick was available for an escort’s appointment and scribble down the time and address.

After putting on one of his favorite dress shirts and smoothing his hair into the ponytail his customer had complimented before, he was out on the street and fuck if the rain had slowed down the least. Either his ears had been tuned to its rapping sounds for so many hours that it didn’t register any more, or he had been too preoccupied for common sense. Maybe he had been too preoccupied pretending his mind had not been running the same circles over and over again.

“Fuck.” He cursed slamming the side of his fist on the wet wall of their building just as the running of heels on stairs mixed into the trickling of water.

“You forgot this.” Alex pushed the only umbrella of their apartment into his hand. He wondered if she was aware it was partially broken, but her eagerness pulled out of him a smile he actually felt.

“Thanks, Alex-chan.” He gave her hip a small push towards the stairs because the downpour was getting stronger and she was as properly dressed as him for the occasion. “Don’t wait up for lunch.”

“I wonder if Nicolas has found shelter somewhere…” she said looking around as if she expected to see him under any of the neighboring awnings.

“Nic?” Worick snorted a laugh. As if Nic would bother. The man wouldn’t think of changing his course of leaping over roofs for fear of slippery tiles and bricks. “That guy gets himself into all kinds of shit, but a storm won’t put him in danger. Now, off-you-go” Another shove on her lovely rear and Alex was giving him one of her stubborn pouts, then an uncertain nod and she was gone.

The umbrella was in lamer shape than he had thought and Worick found himself trudging around puddles under a sagging piece of cheap waterproof polyester. So much for going for classy.

By the time he was passing by the kiosk, his left side was drenched and he had sneezed twice. He picked up his pace because his date could cut him some slack over his rain-soaked getup but was very particular about time and any delay could kick him out of her good graces.

“’morning, Grandma Joel!” Clouds had shrouded the whole city, leaving it in the gray of his filth and cement, but he could see the old woman’s wrapped form in the depth of her cabin.

“Where are you headed, handyman?” Her poignant voice asked from within and Worick stopped in his tracks, turning around with an arched eyebrow.

“Since when are we asking this question, grandma?” He was curious, not annoyed; granny’s nosiness was something both expected and endearing to the Handymen.

“Chad-san didn’t find you? Your partner’s got into a fight with another tag” Her bony hand popped out of kiosk’s opening, thumb pointing to the direction Worick had come from. “The other way, close to that brothel”

Being informed that Nicolas had gotten into a fight was no different than being told that he was breathing. But Chad getting involved in it? Worick frowned in misery, making a quick examination of the possibilities. Police usually stayed out of Twilight squabbles when no Normal was in the mix, except if they got out of control, but “Pussy” was Corsican territory. Perhaps Chad had thought it better to intervene before Corsica’s goons did. Or…

Worick closed his eye, his fist tightening around the broken umbrella’s plastic handle. If the brawl had become talk-worthy, the other tag should be a strong rival. Which meant Nic had either overdosed on uppers, or had had his ass handed to him badly. Possibly both.

All of these scenarios were business as usual. Worick could go to work and pick him up on his way home from Dr. Theo’s clinic, and then they could not talk about it, because they both knew nothing would change.

Fight at request. Fight at a challenge. OD whenever. Get patched up. Sleep it off. Repeat.

Lifespan is just numbers, right?

Worick pulled the worthless umbrella shut and threw it over a pile of miscellaneous junk that was lying on the side of the street. This was going to cost them dearly, carving a hole in their budget that would not be easily covered. He turned on his heels and prepared to dash into a run, when Grandma’s “Oi!” nearly had him slip on the slope of the uneven pavement.

“What?!” 

“Take this.” Something was slammed on her counter and edging closer Worick saw it was a blue folding umbrella, accompanied by an exasperated whisper that called _them boys good-for-nothing._

 “Got no wallet on me, grandma.” He said with his charming grin onand took it anyway. With the pressing of a button it unfolded quick and nicely, though there was not much left for it to shield.

“I’ll put it on your tab with interest”

“Yeah, yeah! Thanks!” He started to run, his feet raising splashes of muddy water all the way to his knees.

***

The event was long over where he reached its grounds, but Big Mama delivered to him the message that he was expected at the police station. Hearing his partner had ended up there instead of a hospital bed, Worick was very inclined to make a run for his date and maybe grovel a little to earn his customer’s forgiveness, but when the “Guild” came up, he was back on Nic’s trail of shit, with double the anger and one third of his patience.

No matter how pissed he was at Nicolas, it would never be enough to leave him in the hands of Gina Paulklee.

“How many times have I told you to keep him in a leash?” Chad said, rubbing the back of his head tiredly. It was comical how he tried to keep his fury on when relief had drained it out of him. “I keep telling ya to stay out of trouble and what does your partner do, huh? Mess with a Guild member in front of Corsica’s store!”

"… _messing around. He was only a B rank."_ Nic signed shabbily behind the glass where he was seated, his motions constricted by the handcuffs. There was a deep cut on his brow, the blood dripping from it caked above his left eyelid.

Worick sighed, his annoyance truer than Chad’s, though for reasons hardly as clear. “What the fuck, Nic?”

Nicolas blinked at Worick disinterestedly if not baffled by the lack of humor in his expression. " _He started it."_

Worick grimaced and turned away, looking at Chad. “Did Paulklee-san say something?”

“Nah, it was her second in command, that missy with the glasses that came at the scene.” Chad took a long drag out of his battered cigarette. “You’re damn lucky it was only _their_ brawler they picked up!”

“I know.” They were. A feud with the Guild was the last thing they-the last thing anybody in Ergastulum- would want. “Well, seems like this was resolved without me, so if you don’t need me any longer, Chad-san, I better go get myself out of these clothes.” He rubbed his knuckles under his nose, feeling another sneeze coming and started towards the door.

“Oi, Worick! What about him?” Chad asked knocking on the glass.

“What about him?” Worick rebutted, looking over his shoulder. “He knows his way home.” He then turned to face Nicolas and added. “I’m out.”

***

He should sit him down and talk, _really_ talk, as in force the promise out of him in his own fuckin misshapen words, that from now on he would give two shits about how bills were paid in that house and how he couldn’t just dive head-first into every fight that came his way.

Who was he kidding? This was classic Nic he was ranting in his head about. He was molded to jump around and swing his katana every chance he got and the two of them would go with that flow and worked around things as they came. Nic hadn’t even abused Celebrer this time. So what exactly was the problem?

Ugh, those damned brain-racking shower thoughts!

He turned off the lukewarm water and stepped out of the tiles, passing the towel hastily over his shoulders and torso before rubbing it over his hair. The shower had chilled him rather than warmed him, and his mood had remained just as foul. His nightmares could be like this. Sometimes he was carrying them around all day like a wet undershirt that kept him even under the sun.

Next stop, fixing that crack on his ceiling.

Worick filled the crack and, while he was at it, he painted it over. Alex’s voice drifted to his ears while he worked, and as it came closer, what had sounded like humming turned out to be a song, with distinct melody and lyrics. Through the open door, Worick saw her walk into the adjacent room, circle the table and sit by the phone with her sign language book on her lap, singing her heart out. He came to lean with his elbow on the doorframe and watch her in hopes to catch her contagious smile. Alex raised her eyes and her performance ended with a small gasp.

“Worick! I didn’t see you there!”

 “Hey there, Alex-chan” He grinned at her and damn if now he didn’t feel like it. “Don’t stop on my account. It’s a good song. It would be a waste to stop it midways.”

A blush spread over her bronze skin as she looked at him dubiously, measuring how serious he was, but when Worick walked back in his bedroom to change the sheets and cover of his bed to the only spares they owned, Alex picked up her song from the last refrain, making his limbs and heart lighter.

“No phone calls today?” he asked her, when he was done and she had fallen silent, absorbed by her book.

Alex shook her head dejectedly. “Only that officer…Erm…Worick?”

He dropped down on the chair next to hers, and tapped a cigarette out of its pack. “Agh, business has slowed down lately, right? It’s like people have started to take care of their own stuff! They don’t need our gun, or our fixing skills…”

“Is Nicolas in trouble?”

“Nic? When’s he not?” He puffed before he put the cigarette between his lips but taking a closer look at Alex, he decided her worry deserved more than his half-assed joking. “He’s fine. Had a pissing contest with a Guild member and Chad-san had to take him in to save face.” He lit up and took a drag, exhaling the smoke away from her. “He’s probably at Theo’s, getting his ugly mug stitched.”

“Is he hurt?”

“Nah, just scratched, from what I saw.”

Alex gave him one of her deep, quiet looks, those that bore into him looking for answers. Right about now she should be wondering why the two of them hadn’t returned home together, as was the usual conclusion of many similar occasions. Being the smart woman she was, she would be making the connection to this morning, when nothing was said and something had happened. Worick would love to hear what answer she would find to that, because he himself was still oblivious to it.

 On cue, the door opened and Nicolas walked in, throwing at them a cursory glance before setting on the table a plastic bag with their respective beverages, sparkling water and beer. The line on the side of his forehead had indeed been stitched and covered with a thin piece of gauge.

“Welcome back, Nicolas!” Alex told him happily.

“Hey” Worick’s eye skittered over him and away, back to the smoke drifting from the lit bud.

Nicolas raised a hand in greeting and then ambled nonchalantly downstairs.

 Alex watched him and then folded her arms on the table, leaning on them. “I wonder if something is on his mind…”

“Who knows?” Worick pursed his lips so hard he could snap the cigarette in two. “You know how good he’s with words.”

“He’s not so good with his face either.”

“Huh?”

 “His face.” Alex said, smiling softly at him as she poked her own cheek with her forefinger. “I think Nicolas… because he has not discovered how to smile or cry, he doesn’t know to show here” she traced a circle around her face with her finger “how he feels. But, Worick, you know anyway, right? You are his partner.”

Worick gaped at her, the cigarette slipping from his lips, down his chin and onto the table. He grabbed it and stubbed it on the ashtray. “Yeah…I guess I do.”

Did he?

Most of the time, Worick told himself he did. Him and Nicolas had spent almost the last two decades together, living with and because of each other. Whatever they were, they were _together,_ the pattern on their backs there to prove it. But more often than not, Nicolas called him his _contract-holder_ in reply to Worick’s _partner._ He never counted the Celebrer he pumped into his veins, never counted the days he had left with Worick as if it didn’t matter. And sometimes, Nicolas saw him at his lowest and walked away, like he was not his problem.

It was fine. It should be, because each of them had his own demons to deal with. Because it really wasn’t Nicolas’s problem and there was nothing he could do about it.

And yet Worick believed that Nicolas cared. Weren’t they here only because once Nicolas had seen, made it his problem and done a whole lot about it?

 Worick remembered the lack of emotion on Nicolas’ face, and how deeply it had gotten under his nightmare-wounded skin. How long could he hold onto the things he knew about his partner against the current of all he saw and heard from him?

“Should I make dinner?” Alex asked, getting the bottles out of the bag to take them to the fridge.

“Hm?” _Oh…dinner._ The thought elicited a motor-like sound from his stomach, reminding him he had skipped all other meals of the day. There should be a pasta pack, somewhere in their poor cupboard. “Ah, that’s right, grab a pen!”

“A pen?” She sat down puzzled, drawing closer the pen and notebook she used to write down callers and messages for the Handymen.

“You like spicy stuff?”

“Yes…”

“Awesome. Now I’m gonna give you a recipe for a super hot sauce for pasta.”

Alex’s blue eyes became round and wide. “You cook?!”

He chuckled. “Not a chance! But, I’ll grab the ingredients from the market for you.”

“Then why…how?”

“From a book I read a long time ago.” Back when he had a lot of solitary time and a great range of material to read. He threw his weight back, balancing the chair on its back legs.

“Worick…you really can’t forget anything…” Alex marveled, fascinated.

Unfortunately, he truly couldn’t.

***

Worick jumped up, feeling a liquid cold congealing in the crooks of his arms, on his hairline and the back of his nape. His ears wheezed and even the rustling of sheets pooling over his legs was like nails against blackboard.

“Fuck…not again!” he growled, and pressed his temples between his thumb and ring finger.

“ **It’S BeCaUsE YoU Ate LiKe a PiG.** ”

His back teeth ground into a painful smile. As he removed his palm from his eye, Nicolas came into his line of vision and Worick realized they were sitting almost hip to hip.

 _"You okay? "_ Nicolas signed.

Worick turned away from him and rubbed his eyelids again. Nic being there asking about him like a normal human being? This nightmare was clearly not over and was taking it too far. But if he wasn’t waking up yet, why not engage.

“You ate a double portion too, asshole.”

Nicolas shrugged. " _I’m not the one with the problem."_

There. Now it was more like it. Worick could compliment his mind on its mean tricks.

 A tap on his shoulder called his attention back.

_"Why are you pissed?"_

“Why is it never you?” Worick spat at him.

Nicolas blinked slowly, his gaze moving down to his knees. His arm coiled more tightly around his katana that he held propped on the floor.

 _"I don’t know what to say to you."_ He paused and then continued. " _Never do."_

It was funny how little explanation was needed between them when they actually sat down to talk, considering their supposed problem at hand was communication.

“Alex doesn’t speak either” Worick muttered frustrated, carding his fingers through his hair. He was aware of how he was stripping himself of any pride he had upheld between himself and Nicolas, and yet less uncertain than he would expect himself to be about it.

“ **ShE dIdn’T dO this**.” Nicolas answered in his broken speech as his hand reached out to Worick’s face. Worick flinched from it but Nic’s calloused palm was fast, cupping his cheek as his thumb stretched up to stroke gently the line of mangled skin over his left eyelid.

Worick’s breath stopped, the flow of air to his lungs cut, his pulse drumming wildly. His arm jolted at Nicolas, hand clamping hard on his shoulder to make him stop that sizzling touch over the ghost of his eye, or to hold onto him for support, he didn’t know. The next thing he heard was the clanging of scabbard on floor, and he felt Nicolas’s arms circling him and closing, tightly, more tightly until his bulky torso was squashed against the narrower plane of Nicolas’s chest.

_Huff. Huff._

Everything was perfectly dark and quiet, but for the dripping remnants of the rain, Nicolas’s rhythmical exhales and his own panting. Suddenly Nicolas’s knee pushed on his thigh and he raised his head to see his partner’s leg on the bed.

Nicolas’s hands slid off his back and neck and he signed.

_"Are you gonna move?"_

For real?

“No fuckin way you’re getting in my washed sheets with this dirty pair on!” He slapped Nic’s thigh getting a flash of his clenched teeth in response. Nic chuffed but stood up, unzipping and kicking off his pants, then unbuttoned and shrugged off his shirt. If he felt any bashfulness or discomfort over climbing in Worick’s bed in his boxers, he didn’t show it. They had seen each other naked many times before, but Worick couldn’t recall a time that they had been so close. They were on lying their sides, heads pillowed on their folded arms, the warmth emanating from their bodies joining into a comfortable heat.

“When I get a call about you, I always think this might be it.” Worick heard himself admitting it with a sort of practiced ease, though he had never rehearsed it in his mind. This was not a discussion he had in store for Nic, not until the glance they had exchanged this morning. They both had their facts straight, on what Nicolas’s life was and the odds of how long it was meant to last. It was what it was and they were making the most of it without wasting moments on questions that could not be answered.

But damn it, would it kill Nic to value what little they had a bit more?

“ **NoT YeT** ”

“What was that?”

Nicolas breathed out loudly through his nose and readjusted his position to sign to him. " _I'm not dying yet."_

“You better not” Worick gritted out bumping his knuckles on Nic’s chest.

The sound of lightly treading feet came through the open door of the bedroom and Worick propped himself on his elbow to see Alex pass by to sit by the table. Apparently there was a lot of sleeplessness in the house tonight.

Nicolas flipped on his back and sat up, turning to her. The move caught her attention and as she smiled at Nic through the door, it occurred to Worick that the scene they presented at her might be a little off.

“Man, this is awkward…” He sat up too, bringing his palm over his face and when he looked again, to his great surprise, Nic was motioning Alex to come over.

“Eh?!”

Alex too started a little before getting up to walk to their door. She was in her black nightdress, looser than the rest of her clothes, but still a beautiful touch on her curves. “What is it, Nicolas?”

 _Get up here,_ he signed and when he was sure she had got it, he flopped down and turned on his side as he was lying before. Worick blinked at him speechless and when he opened his mouth, Nic talked first. “ **BuT gO tO his OtHeR sIdE bEcaUsE hE nEeDs tO bE thE cEnTer oF AtTeNtIon.** ”

“Oi, what… fuck you, partner!”

Nic merely patted the mattress in front of him, urging Worick to come closer. Worick chuckled with the weirdest tightness inside his ribs, and crawled closer, but then remembered and sprung up seated again. “Wait, she can’t take this side! I just fixed the leak and the mattress is still damp.”

Nicolas snorted tiredly and with one swift move, he leaped over him and landed against the window on Worick’s other side, making every spring of the old bed squeak. He had done too much talking for his liking, so he didn’t wait to ask again, just reassumed his position and threw his arm over Worick, scooping him closer.

“Alright, alright!” Worick exclaimed, finding himself with his nose almost on Nic’s. “But you’re smaller than me so this will work better with you on me. Got it?” The situation, this conversation was surreal, so Worick thought he might as well be himself and enjoy the ride. He lay on his back and Nic moved his head on his shoulder, curling with half of his body over him. Worick moved his arm to wrap it around him, securing him there, as he allowed himself to feel his weight over him and maybe believe that this was true.

“Make yourself comfortable too, miss” he told Alex, who was waiting over them. Her look at them was more fondness than surprise and while it was no secret that she had grown used to their bleak, gruff life, such reminders of her care could be exactly what made things right. Alex couldn’t possibly know how many times her singing or comforting caresses or simple cooking had picked them off the ground. It was a shameful thought to have, that the terrible fate that had led her to Ergastulum had ended in a blessing for them.

Worick hadn’t imagined that he needed that third dip on his mattress. That his old, creaky bed would feel so much better on his bones overcrowded. Alex huddled on his right side and they smiled at each other easily. Attracted to her beautiful hair, he kissed it, always amazed how different those kisses felt. Those that were unpaid, honest and linked to something deeper inside him.

“Is it okay to sleep here?” Alex said, her cheek on Worick’s arm.

“Oh yeah.” He fumbled to find her hand and held it in his, grinning widely as he let his head fall towards Nic. “Man, I could die like this. With my partner at arm’s reach and a pair of big, glorious boobs pressing on me.”

The pinch on his right thigh made him yelp, and he sneaked a peek at Alex’s angry pout.

“Ow! You’re terrible, Alex-chan!” he whined at her when Nicolas shifted to sign over him.

_"Can be arranged."_

“And you! What are you doing awake, still watching my lips?”

_"I can’t sleep because you’re being too loud."_

Worick laughed loudly and Nicolas’s head thumped on his sternum, this time his eyes definitely closed.

He petted Nic’s hair. His were coarse and badly cropped, unrefined like everything else about him, a sheer contrast with the polished beauty at his right.

  _Dunno about dying_ , Worick thought, _but this surely is a good way to live._

 

 

 

 


End file.
